Dark Night of the Soul
by LoSt.SoulxDivinity13
Summary: Ever since she was abandoned by the ones closest to her, Maka Albarn was left in the care of Madame Medusa Gorgon in her lovely mansion. But soon, a cursed marionette reaches out to her, strings and all, in hopes to help her piece together the hidden truths deep within this so-called "Serpentine Manor." Will Maka finally understand why all the pieces will fit so perfectly? SoMa !


**Oh, why hello there :3 This is my first, OFFICIAL Soul Eater fanfic as well as my first SoMa story. You might find my name familiar because of some other story that I ended up deleting. I was getting sick of total high school AUs and stuff. Oh, it's obviously M. There will be guaranteed lime somewhere along this plot, so please bear with me! xD**

**Soooooo... I present to you...  
**

**DNOTS! :D**

**Disclaimers: Of course I don't own Soul Eater! Pshh... ;~;**

**I hope you enjoy reading and feel free to comment! It's nice to have some supporting reviews and positive feedback. :)**

* * *

**.Dark Night Of The Soul.  
I**  
**The Pretty Eyes Of An Ugly Snake**

* * *

Eyelids had fluttered open, revealing restless verdant eyes. The girl's heart was beating so fast when she had awoken with a start, slowly yet surely sitting up to make sure she was still living and breathing properly, her mussed up ash-blonde hair pooling around her bare shoulders in frizzy tangles.

The dream, or nightmare, had felt too realistic. The images she had witnessed during her REM cycle were too vivid and animated to be dreamed of. The blood…. She remembered how the blood was everywhere. How the screams were distinct and truly teeth-grinding. The faces she had seen and the voices she had heard were foreign to her, and they were a nightly occurrence since her first night here.

The eight-year-old's eyes lazily drifted to the clock on her nightstand, giving her hell and a wake-up call.

She was late.

Small hands trembled while she tied the laces on her brown oxford shoes after she pulled on a long-sleeved, scarlet dress and styled her hair in the only way she knew possible. With this precaution taken care of, she bolted off of the sitting chair in her room toe the incessant hallways of the rundown mansion. She couldn't waste another second, now that she was late.

Pigtails whipped behind her like streamers as she stomped her small feet while she dashed around the end of the hall to reach another hall before arriving at the grand two-way staircase. Her clunky shoes thundered on each step as she hastily made her descent, panting as she did so.

She couldn't have been anymore tardy this morning than ever, and it frightened her.

The poor girl tried to enter the dining room as subtly as possible (cringing with every loud tap her footsteps had created on the linoleum floor), as if not to disturb her Mistress as she ate her morning meal. Like some rooms in this preserved monumental home, the dining room was spacious and elegant, the tiles spotless and reflecting the silhouettes of those whom would walk amongst them. The upper walls of this immense room were mostly comprised of border-crossed window panes, the red velvet drapery pulled apart to let the morning rays shine through to lick every surface of the area. A very rectangular table, long enough to accommodate nine different families, was centered in the room and shrouded by a white cotton tablecloth. Although there were only three people occupying the home, each seat was prepared with the finest assortment of china plates, sterling silverware, folded cloth napkins, and crystalline glasses.

At the very end of the table was her Mistress.

Without a word, the young girl stood on the right side of her Mistress's chair, hands clasped behind her back to keep them from trembling, facing her patiently as the woman ate. Her Mistress spotted her a glance, which instantly caused the girl bow.

"Good morning, my Mistress! Isn't it such a pleasant day today? Perfect for a fair stroll around the garden, if I may add! I take it that you've had a good night's sleep? If there's—"

The young woman before her raised her hand to silence her. After chewing and swallowing a bite of her food during the young girl's ramble, her golden irises flickered to the anxious girl once more, as if she were a smudge on the tile below her and she briskly stated, "You're exceptionally late, Ms. Albarn."

The girl averted her gaze, staring at her shoes in shame and stuttering her apologies in hopes of a lenient punishment.

"I-I-I'm— I am morosely at fault, my Mistress. P-Please f-f-forgive me and return my foolish act with a punishment that you may deem fit. My insensitive behavior will only justify your actions." The blonde bowed her head slowly, not so hastily like she had the morning before, and kept her hands firmly clasped in front of her knees in a formal gesture of repentance.

The seconds ticked by, and the silence had come to burden itself upon the frail, meek child's neck. The relief had betrayed her face when she felt the woman's cold touch on her shoulder, coaxing out goosebumps beneath her dress. It felt like an eternity and a half for the girl to receive a response from the imposing woman.

"It's so invigorating to have such a young lady as yourself who's aware of the kindness and generosity that has been given to her. If only my son were as grateful as you, Ms. Albarn. You truly appreciate the luxuries I have to offer. Unfortunately, it is a shame that you broke your morning curfew…" The sickly sweet smile she had shown her puckered into a rehearsed scowl, which was merely a firm line and a leer in the girl's eyes. "Maybe, if you weren't reading your foolish novels so late in the night, you would've been on time. You'll be staying in the Dark Room without breakfast or lunch, I'm afraid."

"A-As you wish, my Mistress."

The blonde waited tolerantly until the youthful Mistress had finished her meal. She wasn't allowed to brave the mansion freely on her own. It was usually Madame Gorgon who had escorted her to and from rooms and through halls and corridors. She would've been punished severely if she was caught running around and sticking her nose into anyone else's business here, as the woman put it.

When she turned to make her leave towards the Dark Room, Ms. Albarn barley caught glimpse of the boy who cowered by his mother's side as they walked, odd bubble gum pink hair framing his delicate features. He was a fragile boy many had come to pity, but Maka wasn't one of them. She, too, was being pitied, as well. Born and raised under reprehensible circumstances, she was abandoned by both of her parents. Mrs. Gorgon, her Mistress, was there to pick her up and place her back on her feet. She had taken the young lady under her wing and provided refuge and teachings in refinement in exchange for some services and house chores.

The Dark Room was similar to a catacomb. Below ground level, not even a peep of light to the human eye. The humidity and musty stench of mold and reek of death could make you gag from utmost complaint if you stayed within this darkness for too long.

Maka knew she was different, though. She could feel insanity surround her in the façade of the darkness whenever she was left in this room to her own musings, and yet it never truly bothered her. It only sent shivers up and down her spine whenever she was sitting beside this object of madness, this Insanity.

The door opened before her eyes, Maka welcoming the dark abyss that had stared back at her with longing. She felt herself being shoved inside the room, stumbling forward and landing on her knees. Silently, she waited for the darkness to consume her, embracing the chills that rolled underneath her sensitive skin. Within the nothing that she was suspended in, all she could see was a feint sapphire glow. It was weak, nevertheless still there, and it bore deep into her olive eyes. For the first time since the abandonment, Maka smiled. A maddening smile, but sure, it was progress. She didn't feel loneliness. She didn't feel a hefty trepidation like she did when she was first thrown in to be broken down. She felt something saccharine and heavy pool below her, submerging her legs and adding weight to the hem of her dress. No doubt it had been dirtied by this substance that managed to seep into the pores of her skin.

Then, she heard it. A small hollow voice in the overwhelming oblivion she was tossed in.

_"You feel the madness, too, don't you?"_

At first, she merely thought the voices in her head were stirring once more from the manic aura that this lunacy had aroused from her, but what she wasn't aware of was that was the end of her isolation. She had finally found a lifeline in this agonizing room that used to torture her years before.

The Dark Room was now her demented sanctuary, her sinful asylum.

* * *

Why would one day be so dull, with the minutes feeling like hours and the oncoming days feeling like an eternity never to occur, while the years pass in a blur?

Maka shook her head to rid herself of the thought and replaced her head on her arms. She never understood the functions of time.

Hold on, where was our little Maka?

Well, she was concealed within the closet of her room, mulling over meaningless thoughts that crowded and pressed against her skull in the form of a dull headache. They were too much to think of.

Throughout the span of five years, her trips to the Dark Room had become a rarity all the while Crona was being sent there frequently. Sometimes, she would hear him begging his mother not to send him to the Dark Room, but she would cruelly force him inside despite the tears and groveling. Maka wouldn't see him in hours or days. Then, he just completely disappeared off her radar.

It had been two years since she was last sent to the Dark Room. She had even stepped out of line on purpose just to be sent away to the very room she tried desperately to avoid in her early childhood, but she would merely be ignored. Maka was hesitant to ask her Mistress why, in fear of being reprimanded, receive another disgraceful yet arduous task, or worst of all, being left in the merciless hands of Crona.

She trembled at the last thought.

Ever since he started roaming the halls again, he would give her this maddening smile that sent chills down her spine.

But just recently, whenever she did experience the rarity of running into him, he wouldn't sputter apologies like he used to. He would be silent, staring at her with lifeless eyes and a murderous, twisted grin that would always unnerve her. She would have to be the one to break away from the contact and brush past him in the barren hall, praying that he wouldn't pull a fast one or prowl after her.

So this was why she was here, locked up in the tranquil darkness of her closet until she was called for dinner. It wasn't nearly as close to the obscured, comforting insanity that the Dark Room had held, but it would have to suffice for the time being.

Occasionally, she would hear the door to her room creak open and close. Crona was looking for her, only that she knew, but she didn't know why.

This time, when she heard her door open once more, the creaking sound was followed by the sharp, authoritative voice of her Mistress.

"Maka," she carelessly tossed the name around like it was a rag doll. "I know you're in here. Come out." The girl slowly stood up in the closet, mentally battling over whether she should remain hidden or not, her hand on the doorknob.

If she doesn't come out now, she'll probably be punished severely. If she does, she'll have to face Crona… Even if she didn't come out now, she would still face Crona either way.

Hitching her breath, she opened the door and slowly poked her head out from the closet.

"Y-You wanted to s-see me, Mistress?" The older woman scowled her distaste at her, disapproval evident among her expression. Maka silently mused how her foul expressions remained the same despite time and age.

"What were you doing in there? Ugh, never mind, I need you to clean yourself up and look presentable within the hour. We're having guests. Very important guests, mind you. I'll return to approve of your attire after I prepare myself."

"Y-Yes, ma'am!"

"Perfect." Just as Madame Gorgon turned to make her leave, she halted by her door. "Oh, and you should really learn how to speak proudly and properly. No one within this household is to be made a fool of, specifically me, Maka Albarn. If you cause even the slightest of faux pas, I'll see to it that **_tears_** won't be the only thing that fall. Understood?"

Maka stiffened at the serious promise and threatening sneer, making sure to project with a bolder, "Yes, ma'am." When her Mistress left the room, she let out a shaky sigh before preparing herself for their guests, drawing herself a bath and whatnot, stressing about the current situation at hand.

Guests weren't frequent or plenty in numbers at the Serpentine Manor, and even then, when there were visitors, Maka was usually ordered to keep away and lock herself in her room. They must've have been far more important than expected.

Just as Maka had put on her dress, Madame Gorgon returned like she said she would, in a long, slim black dress crossing with gold thread. Her hair was at its usual, hidden beneath a black shawl and pigtails intertwining into braids underneath her chin. The gold snake bangles twirled up to her elbows, their beady ruby eyes gleaming. She approached the girl who sat in front of her vanity, acknowledging the other's presence in her reflection.

"Let me do your hair," she purred as she loomed over her, flirting with the damp strands of her silky hair before clenching her hold. "It would be such a shame to see you with pigtails at this formal."

Maka knew best to not say a word, or even move a muscle when her Mistress tugged and pulled harshly through her knotted hair with the comb. Her hair was kept down, dark, damp and in ringlets by the time Madame Gorgon finished tending to it. Flecks of diamonds littered her hair, reflecting small spectrums from the room's lighting.

Her attire matched her hair. The dress was simple; a soft white, pure like her soul. The bustline was sewn to a snug fit, to emphasize the assets that she lacked with an embroidered floral lace pattern, and the hem of the dress ended at mid-thigh. Her white low-heel pumps depicted her slow transition into womanhood, playing it safe as to not flash around killer stilettos at an inexperienced age.

Her interminable, still awaiting blooming beauty had become her pedestal, the virgin innocence emanating from her in waves.

"You look so gorgeous," Medusa purred in approval once more, lifting a strand of her curled hair to let it fall back to the girl's delicate shoulders, the diamond flecks staying perfectly in place. "Well-prepared and perfectly groomed. I just might consider having you walk alongside me as we address our guests this evening!"

The callow girl also knew well of Medusa's second intentions. She knew the woman was sick and twisted, always holding an underlying motive in everything she spoke of or did. The sweet demeanor was just a front, another reason to feel everyone owed her something in return. May it be for favors or dirty business behind political war, she always found a way to maintain her status of authority within the Witch Society, a political group currently holding some control over the Lands of Death.

Like now, with this suspicious "formal dinner."

Not that Maka cared for or got involved much in political affairs. She was merely a servant girl for this horrible woman.

Nonetheless, she flashed Madame Gorgon her dazzling, fake smile, pearly whites in a perfect row that blended with the white of her dress.

"Thank you, my Mistress, but my beauty will nowhere surpass yours, with you being the pure definition of woman, after all."

"Oh, stop it, Maka-dear, you'll make me blush!"

She swore.

Maka swore if this repulsive banter continued any longer, she would throw up what was left of her lunch. Or breakfast. Or both.

"Now, let us be off! They'll be arriving any minute now," she exclaimed with excitement. Not like it surprised her. Maka already knew it was just a charade for the night.

They proceeded to the foyer, where the guests had just entered. If they were any second late, Maka wouldn't have heard the end of it from Medusa for the rest of the night following. Maka was informed on only the select few who were most important, in case she was confronted by any of them.

The first and foremost significant being Lord Shinigami, the sole ruler and Lord of the Lands of Death. His word was the get-go in all conflicts that arose. He was undisputable, merciless, and ferociously strategic when it came to war ethics, with the conflict between himself and Arachnophobia, a rebellion group, setting a wonderful example. Then, there was his son, Kid, formerly known as Death The Kid, the only heir to the hierarchy his father had created.

The two to tie at second were Medusa's older and younger sisters, Arachne and Shaula. They, as well as Medusa herself, were among the highest and most influential in the Witch Council. Although they were sisters, they felt threatened by one another. These three were so power-hungry and corrupted by their political standards that they didn't trust each other. It was quite a sight to see; the trio acting so forcefully polite around each other when under the table, they only wanted to wring the other's little necks.

Arachne Gorgon was former general of Arachnophobia. The battle between her rebellion and the Shibusen monarch lasted for many years until Shinigami stopped playing foolhardy and obliterated her in battle. She was spared her life, but only in exchange for the lives of all of Arachnophobia, which she didn't seem to mind at all. She had a higher position than Medusa. No doubt she was being targeted.

Shaula Gorgon, in many cases, is similar to Medusa in more ways than one. Maka, unfortunately, didn't really know much about her profile. However, she felt that it was best to keep it that way.

The other guests were well known witches, as well.

They slowly descended the grand stairway, as if to emphasize the value of their presence while the others looked on, captivated by the never-before-seen adolescent faltering in her steps. She looked on to see the many people who stood watching intently.

_'S-So many people…'_

Realization dawned on her that she didn't have an ounce of experience in interacting with others, beside Mistress Medusa. She was always kept away from affairs up until this very night. How would she know how to specifically act around certain people? What should she say to strike a well involved conversation or discussion? They had never seen her, either, so they were bound to ask questions.

She froze, staring wide-eyed at the crowd, bashfully clutching the hem of her dress and fumbling with it to relieve the anxiety.

Oh, if only her mistress had informed her beforehand! But what if she did? What if she only sent Crona to brief her with a warning of this event? I guess this was the beginning of her punishment…

Medusa felt Maka halt and shined her golden eyes at her, urging her to follow her down the steps. The look she gave her was daunting, far more frightening than having to interact with other beings, so Maka rebounded from her sudden uneasiness and scurried down the steps to catch up. God forbid she trip and fall.

"Ah, the ever so beautiful Mistress has come to grace us with her wonderful presence," a woman with silver-blue hair badgered, sending a smug smile that even made Maka want to smack it off her face. She was wearing a repulsive orange hat with a frilly black, white polka-dotted dress, and white knee-high boots that made the younger girl want to gag at this woman's fashion sense.

But what was exceedingly shocking besides the scandalous attire the lady was wearing was that her Mistress overlooked the attitude, her smile almost genuine.

"Now, now, you slimy little tadpole, save your insults for the dinner table," Medusa retorted half-heartedly as if in playful banter, waggling a menacing finger at her. Her Mistress was very temperamental, but when it came down to publicity, she held her wrath with ease. "I expect to have word in private with you **_and_** Mizune later."

Medusa went about the foyer talking individually with each guest to make them feel welcome, leaving Maka where she stood. Remaining silent and hopelessly without a clue on what to do, Maka twisted the ends of her hair and worried at her bottom lip while she observed how comfortable her Mistress was in this kind of environment. Oh, she wished she was as social and confident as her-

"Hey there~!" A voice from behind made her jump with a start, to whirl around and meet a woman much taller than her. The first thing she noticed were her feet, since she averted her eyes to the floor, meeting the woman's closed-toe black stilettos that were strapped around her dainty ankles. Long, creamy legs much thicker than hers made their way under the skimpy, matching long-sleeved cocktail dress up to wide hips that curved into a slim waist, where it curved once more to her bombastic breasts. Maka's eyes trailed up past her rather large, attention-grabbing assets to the gentle bend of her neck, which tilted along with her head, letting locks of **_purple_** curls to dangle. But what threw her off, apart from the woman's bodily appearance was her doll-like face. Heart-shaped and soft to the touch with amber cat-eyes, just a shade lighter than her Mistress's, glowing with certain mischievousness the smaller girl couldn't put her finger on. She couldn't help gawking at the curvaceous woman who stood before her slyly smiling.

"U-Uh…" Oh boy, she lost her voice already! The mystery woman giggled childishly, a tinkling, high-pitched music box to Maka's ears.

"Wow! Bu-tan thinks you're really shy!"

"B-Bu… Bu-tan?" She giggled some more.

"Yup, that's me~!" Her amber eyes shifted from side to side before she turned around, as if she was trying to find someone. "I'm Blair, but you can call me Bu-tan if you like. I prefer Bu-tan. How about you? Bu-tan wants to know your name!"

Maka was unsure if she should answer this witch, she assumed, who kept speaking in third person. She turned her head back to see Medusa talking to some unfamiliar people with pleasant ease. Then her Mistress cast her eyes on her and Blair and gave her a look that encouraged, yet threatened, her. A look on her face that told her, "_If you don't hold at least one conversation with one of our guests tonight, you'll have time to practice your social skills with Crona."_

Oh, my… Well, here goes nothing...

"I-I'm," she halted herself, inhaling to calm her nerves before speaking again, more confidently. "My name is Maka Al—"

Just as she had introduced herself, Blair stiffened at the sight of her target. A tall woman with pink short hair wearing a sleazier outfit: a tight striped skirt and a short cape that revealed all of her midriff and the round swell of her breasts as well as a black mouse-like hat and matching black paw-like booties to top it all off. The woman turned Blair's way, eyes widening then narrowing into a slanted stare, eliciting a squeak. "Well, gotta go!"

"W-Wait—!" Maka's voice was stuck when she noticed her dress was evaporating into wisps of black smoke. It was too late, she was already gone. She faded away into nothing.

Maka sighed and turned back around to look ahead. There were many people socializing and chattering about political conflicts or epic journeys and humorous tales. She felt so out of place. Maka didn't have an epic journey. She didn't have an interesting story to tell. She wished she could just retreat to the innocuous confines of her room and hide in her closet for the rest of the evening. Maybe even for the rest of her life. Sadly, it had only just begun.

"Maka, darling!" She cringed at her Mistress's voice calling to her from across the room. Had she really strayed that far away? "I would like you to meet some friends!" Without hesitation, due to her fear of Madame Gorgon's threats, she walked as quickly and graciously as she could without tripping over her own clunky heels, only to halt before a really tall man dressed in all black with a skull mask over his face. He radiated a certain power and regal air about him. Then, she recognized who the man was. Lord Death himself!

"O-Oh! Pardon me," she apologized, curtseying out of respect for the man who held such great supremacy.

"You don't have to apologize to me, young lady—" She did anyway; her Mistress forbids such impertinence, especially towards **_the_** Lord Death. "—Albarn. Tonight's a night of festivities! You must indulge yourself in the time being!"

"You're a-already acquainted of me?" she asked dumbly, blushing when she noticed Medusa was right beside her, observing her in skeptical silence. Those, testy eyes of hers aren't going to make the poor girl's act any better, and it unnerved her.

"Oh, yes~! I've heard a lot of things about you, Miss Albarn! Unfortunately," the jovial tone in the doyen's voice became a bit concerned as he looked to his side. "You haven't met my son! Kiddo, this is Maka Albarn. Miss Albarn, this is my son, Kid!"

He was just as sophisticated as his father. His posture was perfect. The blazer jacket and slacks were pressed and crisp, dress shoes black and down to a slick polish. The Lines of Sanzu crossed the left side of his head and around his bangs, an undisputable trait in the family of Death. Topaz irises gleamed at her figure as he stared at her. She was overwhelmed with discomfort since she had never seen a boy her age, so attractive, who'd even glance at her, let alone **_stare_**.

"H-Hi, Kid…" she tentatively waved out of nervousness as he continued to regard her form.

"Symmetrical," he murmured more to himself than anyone else. "Beautifully symmetrical."

"E-Excuse me?" Her pallor definitely reversed within seconds, a warm rosy shade dusting her cheeks. Was he calling her beautiful? Perfect? Was that what he actually meant? Maka didn't know what to say. She had never encountered a boy as flattering as Kid.

"Yes," he spoke with such a collected coolness. "You heard correctly, Maka."

She wanted to run away the moment their eyes met.

_'Thank him for the compliment, and walk away. That's all you have to do…'_

Of course, she wouldn't listen to the rational side of her mind and just walk away rudely. Of course, he would follow after her and hold her back.

"Please, excuse my improper address. I just find you… What's the word, pretty?"

"Oh…" She felt like the small word was being clichéd lately from her awkward introductions. "Well, I'm not sure what to say."

_'How about **thank you**, Maka the Baka!'_

"Is talking with me a bother to you?" He questioned suddenly, the small frown gracing his features sent Maka in overall panic. She didn't want to upset the prince, especially with her Mistress lingering about somewhere.

"No! Not in the least! It's just I've never spoken to a boy before…" She blushed considerably at the fact before turning away from the intensity of his stare.

"And neither I a girl," he seemed to whisper, which jumpstarted her heart at a breaking pace, pumping more blood to her face as they stood there. And she wouldn't forget to mention that he was still holding her hand.

"Ah, I take that you two fancy each other?" Her cold voice sounded from nowhere, revealing the silent and curious Mistress to the couple. This time, Kid had also blushed, looking anywhere else but Maka or Madame Gorgon, finally letting the girl's hand fall to her side. Medusa smiled perceptively and turned toward the crowd of witches and nobles.

"May I have your attention, please?" She caught the attention of them all, for the chatters diminished into small whispers and murmurs. "If you'll please enter the dining room, dinner will be served shortly."

"Pardon me, Madame," Shinigami confronted. "It may appear that I've encountered a certain situation. My son and I must return to the DMWA immediately. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience; we cannot stay for dinner." He sounded... Careful with his words, as if he knew something was awry.

"Kid, let's go." The dashing boy nodded in compliance and flashed Maka a small smile.

"Farewell, Maka, Madame Gorgon. Enjoy your festivities."

"Thank you for coming and goodnight," Maka managed to slip in cheerily before they turned to leave, which pleased her Mistress. Relief warmed her belly.

"You're learning well for such an introvert as yourself," the Mistress told her dismissively. "Our guests are waiting."

She followed without a moment's hesitation now, making brisk strides to keep up with the taller witch. By the time they entered the dining hall, everyone was situated in their seats according to the decorative cards placed perfectly on each plate with their respective names.

"Come, my child, sit beside me."

She followed suit, sitting at the very end of the table on the right side. Her Mistress's right side. Madame Gorgon gathered their attention with the clink of her champagne glass, commencing dinner with a short speech, and then the maids and servants filed into the room with the utmost perfect timing, holding silver platters. The hidden entrees were skillfully positioned as quickly as the servers disappeared, the silver covers gone along with them. Maka peered at the food beneath her, slightly cautious on eating. The food seemed delicious, but the atmosphere of the room was off. Her eyes flitted to one of the corners of the room, spotting Crona leaning against the wall. He was smiling wickedly at her, arms crossed and a sword swaying slightly back and forth from his grip on the hilt.

He was trembling with excitement. And it perturbed her immediately.

With a nod of consent from the Mistress, everyone began to dig in.

Maka dreadfully observed the countless nameless faces dining merrily on the free eats, some laughing openly at what the other must've said, others sharing certain experiences or throwing light and playful banter across the table over decorative foliage and candelabras that separated them. She faced her Mistress, seeing that she was eating, as well. Her amber eyes caught her, giving her a look of suspicion.

"Aren't you going to eat, Maka-dear?"

"Oh! I am, Mistress. It's just… I like watching them," she returned her gaze to the socializing invitees, a small admirable smile gracing her lips. "They're so lively, talking amongst themselves when they truly know anything but the one beside them. Is this how others interact, Mistress? Without regards to how well you know a man?" Medusa looked down at her in a commendable way, casting the girl a smaller smile of her own.

"Some if not most are like this, but not you and I," her eyes left the blonde girl to see the empty seats on her left. "It's a shame that my sisters refused the invitation to stay for dinner. They could have been… lively with the others, too; it would've been a pleasant meal for me."

Maka nodded eagerly in agreement, curious as to what kind of sisters Medusa had. Were they as depraved as her? She was dying to know.

Just then, there was a clatter of silverware. It was difficult to hear over the others, but Maka picked up the sound, turning in its direction. She faced a rather portly man sitting stiffly three chairs down. His hands were suspended; empty of fork and knife, and his eyes were vacant. Blood driveled from his pressed lips slowly before his head made contact with his dish, invoking a shriek from an equally stout woman beside him. Probably his wife. A chain of gasps and panicked murmurs filled the rooms while the woman shook her husband, screaming. At that moment, others began to hit the table along with the first man who had fallen, igniting trepidation and horror. Whoever was still breathing began to run for the doors, some falling over one another or collapsing into wakeless slumber on the way. The more fortunate who reached the doors shook them vigorously by the handles in vain; they were inaccessible.

"M-Mistress, something's wrong! We have to hel—" She fell silent when she noticed how collected the Madame was while she witnessed the atrocity and consternation thumping rapidly in harmony with the limited heartbeats of those who wished to escape.

"Crona, my love, go play. Mommy won't mind."

Maka acknowledged the presence she'd forgotten so hastily, seeing the boy smile in pleasure as he hacked the person closest to him with his blade. The remaining guests were all screaming now and the room was being bathed in sanguine madness from Crona's massacre.

The last man crumpled to the floor after the boy skewered his chest and slid the blade out swiftly. Lifting the sword to his lips, Crona took a tentative, dragged out lick across the blade with the flat of his tongue, blood smearing at the corner of his lips as made a clean streak on the black sword.

"The blood is red, but mine is black," he professed bluntly, his manic grin disappearing with his itch to slaughter, only to be replaced with one of amusement. He began to laugh hysterically into his stained hand, his body wracking with the tremors of his laughter. "Why is that?"

Maka's heart was palpitating in erratic horror, rooted to her seat instantly the moment Crona's eyes landed on hers.

"Is your blood red, Maka-chan? Or is it black."

"I-I don't know." She didn't have it in her to look at him any further, staring at the hands that trembled in her lap, bunching up her dress to try to keep them still. Is this what Madame Gorgon meant? Was this her doing?

"M-Mistress—" She began to whimper.

"Maka, not a word of this," her Mistress snapped.

"What was your purpose in all of this? Why the need to **_kill the innocent_**?! WHY?" Furious tears hotly trailed her cheeks. Her Mistress gave her answer in the burdening silence. "This… This is Madness!"

The witch sighed in irritation. "I knew you weren't ready. Leave to your room, Maka."

"No, I won't let this be! I just can't!"

"Out of my sight now, you ungrateful brat, or you'll truly know what Madness is," she hissed at Maka, but the distraught girl wouldn't listen to her. She couldn't.

"You… YOU SNAKE! You're not refined, you're evil! A wicked, filthy, disgusting, evil serpent!" She saw her Mistress approach menacingly towards her at the words, causing her to back up with wide olive eyes. "S-Stay away from me! I… I'll scream! I'll—" She felt her back press against warmth briefly before she gasped and her world turned black. Crona managed to catch her with one arm, successfully knocking her out with the handle of his sword. She lay limp in his arms, making him sigh as he tried to pull her dead weight.

"She's so troublesome. Sometimes I don't know how to deal with her," Crona groaned, dragging her back to Medusa.

"Indeed. It makes me pity her. It's upsetting to see her like this. And I sincerely thought she was making such wonderful progress. I guess I was wrong."

"Should I just kill her then? It'll make things easier."

"Too easy, although tempting as it sounds. She needs to stay alive."

"Then, what should we do with her?" A thought occurred to the Snake Witch, a sinful smirk distorting her face.

"I think it's about time she went back to the Dark Room."

* * *

**Yeah, sorry if you thought it was too short, but I'm pressed on time and I just wanted this out there. I hope you enjoyed it :) And please, tell me what you think! I'd like to know! :D**


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